Standard Of Review: 'Shots Fired' Ends Its Good (But Not Great) Season

Shots Fired is a solid show that explores important issues, but it's not without its flaws.

Shots_Fired_Title_CardSince debuting on March 22, FOX’s limited series Shots Fired has not really resonated in the cultural discussion. Its ratings have been low (as a comparison point, Trial & Error had more average viewers) and anecdotally, I don’t know anyone else that watches it, particularly given the plethora of other television options this spring. While Shots Fired is a solid show that explores some important issues, I never forgot that it aired on a network instead of on cable (this review will contain spoilers up through last week’s finale).

As I described in my initial review, Shots Fired depicts the firestorm that erupts in fictional Gate Station, North Carolina after an African-American police officer, Joshua Beck, shoots and kills an unarmed white teenager during a traffic stop. The Department of Justice sends young attorney Preston Terry and veteran investigator Ashe Akino to investigate, and they soon discover that the predominantly white police department has also covered up the murder of Joey Campbell, an unarmed black teenager. The investigation veers into dangerous terrain as Preston and Ashe begin looking into corruption in Gate Station, as well as the wealthy donors who acted as “auxiliary deputies” and accompanied actual police officers.

Shots Fired definitely succeeds in limning the complex racial divide in Gate Station. The town’s African American citizens become increasingly fed up with a police department that treats them like second-class citizens, ultimately leading to a protest in which stores are looted and cars are destroyed. One of the leaders of the protest is pastor Janae James, played in a terrific performance by actress Aisha Hinds. Hinds imbues Janae with charisma while at the same time not revealing whether or not Janae always has the community’s best interests at heart.

Preston and Ashe are also caught up in the complicated politics of the investigation. Preston in particular is torn between fealty to his job and his sympathy towards the protesters. Preston begins the season as a by-the-book DOJ attorney but slowly warms to the protesters’ cause, to the point where he insists that he focus on race when he argues before a grand jury at the end of the season. Unfortunately, as I mentioned in my original review, actor Stephan James gives a mostly wooden performance that never made me care that much about Preston as a character.

The show also struggled in its depiction of Preston and Ashe’s personal lives. The show shoehorns in a pointless romance between Preston and Ashe, despite their lack of sexual tension (and the fact that Ashe previously slept with Preston’s brother!). I wish Shots Fired had realized that some of the best relationships between colleagues are platonic (such as Don Draper and Peggy Olson, or Leslie Knope and Ron Swanson). While Shots Fired smartly pulled back on the ridiculous relationship between Preston and his father, who believes that Preston made a bad career choice by becoming a Harvard-educated attorney instead of a baseball player, it continued to focus too much on Ashe’s personal life. The show contained several long digressions in which Ashe engaged in a custody dispute with her ex-husband, which mostly dragged and distracted from the main plot.

Shots Fired also contained too many one-note characters. At one point, the Department of Justice is fed up with Preston and sends another lawyer to replace him. The replacement attorney serves only as an impediment to Preston (and not a very successful one at that). I laughed out loud (and not in a good way) when this other lawyer, who basically has no other characteristics besides “robotic,” tells Preston about how much he inspired her.

The show missed an opportunity with one of its central villains, Arlen Cox. Preston and Ashe’s investigation revealed that Cox participated in an auxiliary deputy program in which big muckety-mucks like Cox rode around with police officers and were given tasers despite inadequate training. Cox was the one that shot Joey Campbell with his own firearm, a crime that was ultimately covered up by the Gate Station police department. But Cox is not much more than a mustache-twirling villain; the show never really digs deeper into Cox’s private prison business (besides conveying the general sense that private prisons are bad).

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Finally, while I appreciate that Shots Fired attempted to end the series with some positivity after the grand jury failed to indict Cox, it was too schmaltzy, particularly a scene in which a white officer earnestly tells Janae’s church that he is going to make an effort to know his community better. I half expected the scene to turn into the climactic “If I can change” speech from Rocky IV. Such a scene would never have happened on cable (I think).


Harry Graff is a litigation associate at a firm, but he spends days wishing that he was writing about film, television, literature, and pop culture instead of writing briefs. If there is a law-related movie, television show, book, or any other form of media that you would like Harry Graff to discuss, he can be reached at harrygraff19@gmail.com. Be sure to follow Harry Graff on Twitter at @harrygraff19.

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